


Parchment

by lordofcrowns



Category: Final Fantasy XIV, Original Work
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Male Miqo'te (Final Fantasy XIV), Miqo'te (Final Fantasy XIV), Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Mutual Pining, Pining, Viera (Final Fantasy), Viera Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26387092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordofcrowns/pseuds/lordofcrowns
Summary: For a man so enthusiastically spoken of by her employer, Captain Stacy’s markedly stoic nature surprised Masya....
Kudos: 7





	Parchment

For a man so enthusiastically spoken of by her employer, Captain Stacy’s markedly stoic nature surprised Masya.

After all she had heard, with how much admiration and fondness her proprietor had conveyed in his introduction, she had expected more in the way of jovial camaraderie and familiarity between the two men. As she understood it, the two were childhood friends, thus earning her employer special treatment from the otherwise unapproachable and unavailable Captain. And while it was without question that the two shared a deep bond of some kind, Masya struggled to read the hardened disposition and no-nonsense tone the Miqo’te bore.

She was met with an incredibly formal, militaristic commander who, while not cold or unkind, _was_ particularly intimidating. Perhaps it didn’t help that his voice frightened her nearly out of her wits when she first heard it, what with the way it seemed to crack the air like thunder when giving orders. It was all she could do not to jump in surprise and embarrass herself. 

To her great relief, he had softened his voice when he approached to introduce himself properly. And, much to her surprise, he had taken her hand in his and pressed a chaste kiss to the back of her knuckles, declaring himself truly charmed to meet her. Masya was quite petite, even for a Feol Viera, but she had felt utterly dwarfed by this man the moment she realized her hand was practically lost in his. And by the _twelve_ was he _tall..._

Tall, and with not so much as a single hair out of place, she noticed right away. He wore a form-fitting black and gold uniform - at least the majority of the times she saw him, that is. Polished black leather boots, matching gloves, and glittering epaulets emblazoned with his own mark cut a tall, dark, broad-shouldered figure she found herself shrinking back from if not careful. Suddenly she had an intense desire to ensure that her own appearance was as carefully manicured as the Captain’s, braiding and pinning her fluffy white hair up into a professional-looking bun and ensuring her round brass spectacles were spotlessly clean when she donned them to write.

As her superior’s secretary and scribe, she was to accompany him and document all business proceedings, which meant that she was privy to the regular meetings and private conversations the two men had each week they were aboard his vessel, being borne from one destination to the next. Much of what she wrote down was uninteresting, at least to her. Numbers and product descriptions, currency conversions and payment plans… such business matters were of little concern to her.

But what _did_ concern her was the amount of times she realized she had missed a few precious words here and there, that her normally prim and proper handwriting seemed to falter as she struggled to stop her hands from shaking, and that she had to pay deliberate attention to prying her eyes _away_ from the Miqo’te, lest he catch her staring. The voyage was to last three long months, during which time there would be ample meetings... and therefore ample opportunities for her to endeavor _not_ to make a fool of herself.

Each meeting was prefaced the same way. Masya always sat at a small writing desk a comfortable distance away from the two - the chair to which was always pulled back and offered to her by the Miqo’te. Each time, he offered her his hand as she sat down and made herself comfortable, and each time she gave a quaint curtsy and dipped her head before accepting. Tea was prepared - though Masya was often either too busy, too nervous, or both - to indulge in the cup the Captain would personally set on her desk. To her credit, she did always endeavor to sip at it, lest she offend the good man. And then after all, it always smelled delicious, though she could not quite pin down the aroma or the flavor.

Then came the first moment she happened to notice that during these meetings, the Captain seemed to be watching her back. She did a double take the first time, blinking a few times before realizing she had made eye contact with the man. His mannerisms were subtle, and he only dared give her a passing glance, lest he offend his friend and business associate by not giving him his undivided attention. But it was enough to make her heart race and her cheeks flush red.

That first time it was quick, their gaze met not even a full second before the Captain politely looked away, back down at the documents spread over his desk. He didn’t miss a beat, replying immediately to the question posed by the businessman who sat opposite to him. Panic and excitement both bubbled up inside of Masya. Why was he looking? Did he think she looked nice? Had he caught her staring? Oh no, was he offended? Had she done something wrong? A thousand questions burned in her mind, but luckily her work kept her grounded and distracted enough to maintain her composure. She spent the remainder of that meeting with her eyes glued to the parchment, afraid to look up.

The next meeting saw her taking a deep, quiet breath before very gingerly preparing her ink and quills. She couldn’t tell if she loved or loathed the days between each meeting now, whether they brought her peace or anxiety - as she hardly saw the Captain at all between them. But despite the way her heart raced, she managed to focus on her work and take comfort in the routine.

That is, until she chanced a glance upward on one occasion and caught the Miqo’te staring at her, _again_. Except he was hardly subtle this time, perhaps due in part to her employer being too preoccupied to care, busy thumbing through documents of his own. Her mouth fell open a moment, dumbfounded, and she glanced from one side to another before looking back down at her writing. She wrung her hands together, took a full minute to clean her spectacles, read the date she’d written ten times over to ensure it was correct - all before even so much as thinking to sheepishly look up again. _He was still staring!_

The meeting couldn’t be over fast enough. When it finally ended, Masya practically fled from the room, eager to splash her face with cold water to cool the burning heat in her cheeks. The second she was in the privacy of her own cabin, Masya quickly shut the door and leaned back against it, pressing her palms to her face and patting her cheeks in both annoyance and embarrassment. How unprofessional! She was reacting like a schoolgirl, giddy with a crush! She’d never be able to look the good Captain in the face again, much less her supervisor. How on earth was she to survive another two months of this venture…

And was her mind playing tricks on her, or was she just so _happening_ to see the Captain out and about more often between meetings? Before, she’d perhaps catch glimpses of him as he went about his work, but now she could swear she passed him in the corridor at least once a day… Though he was usually accompanied by at least one member of his personal guard - a reality which she was unsure if she should be grateful for or not - he did regularly make a point of stopping and at least greeting her, if not seizing the opportunity for a brief conversation.

Small talk with him was jarring at first, perhaps because of how utterly unexpected it was. Masya would quickly try to wipe her hair from her face and appear presentable before bowing to him when he addressed her. Most often, after greeting her he would ask if there was anything at all she needed or preferred while aboard. Courteous inquiries befitting a host, of course - nothing more. Nothing more at all, she was sure of it.

Predictably, the next week Masya had done her very best to collect herself and, predictably, she immediately struggled to keep from embarrassing herself. As usual, the Captain greeted her politely, pulling her chair back and once again offering her his hand. It took every onze of effort to keep her hand from shaking when she placed it in his. And, once she was seated, all that effort instantly was for nothing when she felt the gentle brush of his gloved thumb over her knuckles. She inhaled sharply and looked up at him as he stood over her, once again left dumbfounded. 

He had never truly held her hand - his invitation was always an open one, where she could rest her hand atop his and pull back at her leisure. But now, even as he clasped onto her fingers so carefully, she somehow felt trapped, like she couldn’t pull away. The few seconds he ran his thumb along her fingers felt like an eternity, but he finally released her hand and meandered back over to his desk nonchalantly. Masya was entirely unsure what to think of the way he seemed to flex the hand that had held hers, running this thumb along the tips of his fingers idly where it rested on the arm of his chair. And then he was looking at her again....

The next day, he happened across her alone in the hallway. Without his guard urging him along to some matter that required his attention, he softened his posture and his tone, and took the opportunity to share idle conversation with her at a much more relaxed pace. Masya meanwhile did her best not to stammer or stutter over her words, despite how inclined they were to trip over her tongue. To combat her nerves she had mentally rehearsed her answers to each of the questions she knew the Captain would ask. How was she that day? Did she sleep well? Did she have need of anything? Was her room comfortable? Did she have a preference in tea?

Wait-

Her practiced smile shattered in an instant and she stared blankly at the Miqo’te.

“I’m sorry?”

He smiled gently at her and tilted his head to one side. When he spoke, he almost sounded dejected.

_“You hardly touch what I prepare for you, is it not to your taste? I can prepare something else…”_

If it was even possible for this intimidating man of such commanding stature to swiftly appear demure and almost insecure at the idea that a lady might not be partial to what he served her - Masya was witnessing it right before her very eyes. It shocked her so much that for a brief instant she completely forgot herself and forgot her place, stepping up far closer to the man than was likely appropriate and clasping her hands together.

“N-no! It’s not that! It always smells lovely! I-I look forward to it each week! I simply cannot always find time to set my quill aside…”

Cyril’s smile widened just a bit, and his ears flicked down and back up into position in what appeared to be relief.

_“Ah, well full glad I am to hear that. Though, it is a shame you have no real opportunity to drink at your leisure.”_

Masya was so focused on reading the Captain’s face that she only half heard his words. For the moment, she was oblivious to quite how close she was, looking intensely up at him and studying his features. His stoic face and mannerisms often betrayed so little, but now that she was practically right up against him, she could see much more than before. She could see the subtle curl in his lips when he smiled, how his one eye was bright and alert, how well-kept his hair was, how there wasn’t even a single seam out of place in his uniform…

She was snapped back to attention when he continued speaking.

_“If you would wish it, you are welcome to remain in my cabin after the conclusion of our meeting. My room is quiet, and you may work peacefully there, rather than in the solitude of your own cabin. That is… if you would not be opposed to my company, during your precious free time.”_

Masya couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. Before she could think harder on the man’s offer, she found herself practically falling over herself to get her words out fast enough.

“I-it would be my pleasure, Captain!”

That night Masya lay awake, eyes wide in shock and apprehension at what she had accepted - _what was she thinking!?_

The following week’s meeting had her heart pounding in her head. She had no clue what to say to her employer, how in the world would she manage to explain herself when she opted to stay behind… She hoped that she could hide behind the excuse that it was at the Captain’s invitation, and therefore to decline would be rude…

So nervous was she that, when she took a seat and the Captain clasped her hand, she almost instinctively curled her fingers into his and held onto him a moment. She of course was quick to correct herself once she realized, pulling her hand from his unceremoniously and setting about preparing her ink and quills. It was all she could do to work particularly diligently this meeting; intentionally ignoring the stare the Captain gave her, or the habit he’d adopted of fidgeting with his fingers, or how her own hands shook and her cheeks were bright pink.

Much to her relief, the good Captain made the blunt statement to her employer that Masya would remain in his room for a time after their meetings. He said simply and matter-of-factly that he wished to have her make extra copies for his own reference and to compare notes… and her proprietor either believed it, or knew better than to argue, and excused himself without hesitation.

Being alone in the Captain’s cabin with him suddenly made Masya’s heart drop into the pit of her stomach. Though it took only a few mere minutes of the Miqo’te rising from his chair, inviting idle chatter, and shuffling to prepare a pot of tea to calm her down. Or at least, calm her down as much as was possible. He had a remarkable ability for making her want to converse with him, asking her questions and showing a genuine interest in all she had to say. He invited her to sit with him in one of the comfortable looking armchairs, rather than at her desk, while the two of them had tea.

Whether it was the hot tea, good company, or more comfortable seating - Masya found a good amount of her tension and nerves dissipating. Even though her hands still trembled, she felt a cold shiver all over her when the Miqo’te stood close, and could hardly make proper eye contact with the Captain for more than a handful of seconds, she was growing more accustomed to his presence. 

Masya began to eagerly look forward to her idle teatime with the Captain each week. 

Occasionally, the two would be interrupted with some of his crew members coming in to report or request further orders. The first time it happened, she offered to excuse herself, but the Captain dismissed the idea immediately and insisted she need not go. Masya of course knew to be professional and ignore matters that did not concern her… but she did pay close attention to how the Captain carried himself during those instances.

He was never _cold_ , but he certainly was a commanding presence. She noted the way he never repeated himself, that he didn’t take no for an answer, that he didn’t want to hear excuses. She then watched in something of reverent awe how he shifted and softened himself to be with her. That she was gifted this gentler side of him was a notion that made her heart flutter.

Her fluttering heart though soon felt heavy as she realized with each passing week, the day grew closer that they would reach their destination, and she and her employer would take their leave. It was one such late morning that the thought seemed to don on the Captain as well.

He had been sitting comfortably, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, still toying with the fingers of his one hand - before humming in thought and rising abruptly. Masya paused from sipping her tea to look up at him, watching as he rummaged about in his desk and fetched a few tins from the cupboard. 

_“Permit me… would you come here a moment?”_

Masya wordlessly obliged, setting her cup down in its saucer and walking over to the Miqo’te, standing opposite to him at his desk. He beckoned her around the side with two fingers, waiting until she obeyed him and stood at his side. He popped the lid of one tin open, offering it to her.

_“If you have a favorite of these teas, please tell me - and I will package up a small amount for you to take with you.”_

“Oh! That is very kind of you, thank you…” 

She settled on a blend of peppermint and black tea, which if he was to be believed, also happened to be a favorite of the Captain. He went about wrapping up the parcel in brown paper and tying it with a length of white cord, writing a small note with some brewing instructions and placing it inside.

When the usual time came for Masya to be on her way back to her own cabin, and Cyril to be called away to tend to his business and everyday affairs, he as usual accompanied her towards the door. Her quills, ink pots, and documents all neatly tucked into her leather satchel and slung over one shoulder, she had both hands free to accept the parcel the Miqo’te had prepared for her. She took it bashfully from his grasp, holding it to her chest and giving him yet another curtsy. Delight was written plain on her face, if tinged a small amount with sadness at their inevitable parting.

“Thank you very much for your kindness, Captain.”

He simply nodded before raising one hand towards her. He very gently pried one of her hands away, taking it in both of his and leaning in once again to press a kiss to the back of her knuckles, just as he’d done when they’d first met. That alone was enough to make Masya’s cheeks flush with color and cause her to look at the floor - but then he rolled her hand over to kiss her palm and she let out an audible squeak of surprise.

 _“Ah…”_ He whispered, his voice low as his lips remained nestled into her hand. _“I pray you will forgive me, for perhaps being quite forward…”_

Though he spoke an apology, he did not release her hand, nor did he back away from her. When he did not put distance between the two of them, Masya suddenly realized that he had her hand poised to stroke the contours of his face if she only closed the gap between their skin. Whether it was courage, or a lack of restraint borne from knowing this would likely be their last visit, Masya swallowed and inched closer. She propped herself up on her tip-toes, delicately setting her hand on his face and admiring the lines of his jaw.

The, frankly rather adorable, smile on his face that her touch earned made her heart swell, and an equally charming smile settled over her features as the man turned and nudged his face further into her touch. So enamored was she with tracing her fingertips along the sharp lines of his face and gingerly thumbing his bottom lip, that she didn’t notice quite how close he had leaned in against her. He propped himself up with one elbow on the wall behind her, forehead practically touching hers.

She held the gift he’d given her tight to her chest, heart racing, before inhaling a deep breath and summoning everything she had to press a soft kiss on the Captain’s cheek. She immediately let out a nervous squeak and pulled her hand away to cover her mouth, her whole face turning a bright shade of red.

Before she could doubt herself, though, Cyril smiled reassuringly at her. He reached up with his free hand to pull her wrist away from her face, giving him space to return the kiss on her flushed cheek. There was another hushed mewl and it took all of Masya’s restraint to keep from simply turning her face to allow her mouth to meet his.

But when the Captain didn’t pull back, she could feel her restraint faltering. He pressed another kiss to her cheek, then another, his lips meandering along towards her own. With each tender press of his mouth to her face Masya felt her chest tighten more and more. Only when he let his mouth hover over hers did she let out a proper whine and whisper his title to him in the only real invitation she could muster.

There was a quiet crinkle of paper as Masya hugged tight her gift, moaning a satisfied, relieved note in her throat when the Captain finally pressed his mouth to hers. He still held her wrist, and now guided her hand back towards him, letting her cradle his jawline while he tilted deeper into the kiss. Masya meanwhile needed no second urging, fingers sliding along his skin and back behind his neck to play with his hair. Masya’s eyes were squinted shut, hands still shaking and heart still pounding as the Miqo’te lovingly kissed her breathless. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 🌹  
>  **Captain Cyril Stacy© 2016-2020**  
>  **  
> [Tumblr](https://lordofcrowns.tumblr.com) || [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cyrilstacy) || [Instagram](https://instagram.com/lord_of_crowns) || [Twitch](https://www.twitch.tv/lord_of_crowns)  
> **


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